Her legs took a moment to move and she evaded Mr Hoskine’s hand. The sand was hard to run on, but Daddy needed her. He was hurt.

‘Diana, stop!’ Mummy ran to her and Diana kicked and squirmed as Mummy held her fast. Uncle Tom and Jacob all stood shoulder to shoulder and she couldn’t see Daddy, she needed to see him to tell him she loved him. She hadn’t meant to lie to him. She should have told him the truth that she had told Mummy she’d seen him kiss Mr Venn.

Still holding her tight, Mummy put her on the sand. ‘Stop. Diana, look at me.’ She turned her head and saw Mummy’s red eyes. Diana fell to the sand. Mummy bent down to her and picked up her hands.

‘My love, you can’t go to Daddy.’

‘I need to.’

Mummy swallowed.

‘He needs to know I love him.’

Mummy wrapped her arms around her. ‘He knows that my love. He loved you.’

‘Why can’t I talk to him?’

Mummy took a deep breath. She hugged Diana even tighter. ‘Daddy is . . .’

‘Daddy’s right there lying down.’ She pointed.

‘No, Diana, he’s . . . gone to heaven.’

‘Heaven?’ Diana frowned then she looked Mummy straight in the eyes. ‘He’s dead?’

Mummy nodded, and she pressed her lips together like she was cross. Daddy was dead, and it was Diana’s fault.

‘Mr Hoskine can you take Diana up to the house?’

‘Come Diana, let’s go.’ He held out his hand and she took it. With each step she repeated in her head daddy’s dead, daddy’s dead, daddy’s dead. She looked over her shoulder. Uncle Tom’s jumper covered Daddy’s face. It was all her fault – she’d lied.

75. Lottie

75

Lottie

5 August 2018, 7.30 a.m.

The tide was still out, and Alex hadn’t said a word since they had left his grandmother’s. Yet Lottie knew he was bursting to speak, and she wasn’t ready to listen. This playing sleuth was hard, but harder still was knowing only a half truth. Or thinking of the dolls on the birthday cake, it was as though Lottie had opened the largest one, but she wasn’t able to loosen the grip the middle doll had on the smallest. Years ago when she’d found them, Gran had opened them. She sighed.

Leaving Alex by the wall, she walked to the rocks by the cliffs. From here the watchtower was nearly invisible. At the moment, on the furthest rock sat a fisherman. She made her way out to him. He turned as she approached. ‘Lottie Trewin, I’m so sorry to hear your grandmother’s not well. She’s a fine woman.’

‘Thanks, Jacob.’ She perched on the edge of a rock and peered into his bucket. ‘Much luck?’

‘Not bad. Enough for dinner tonight anyway.’ He grinned. ‘I see you’re spending time with young Alex again.’